Living on the Line
by niiri
Summary: A/U: Vegeta is notorious for his dealings with money, as well as his affairs with women. Bulma needs his first talent, but how does she avoid the second? And does she even want to....
1. Disaster

Living on the Line  
Disclaimer: Yeah, now I think about it, I DO own Dragonball Z. I hypnoticed Akira Toriyama in his sleep and fed all those ideas into his brain. Yeah, that was it.... Oh well, the truth is I don't own any of it, but for the idea of this story, and ofcourse Bulma's sisters and brothers, her new mother and maybe a couple of other characters added to this fic. You can look all you want for something to sew me on though, but you won't find any. So why don't you all just read the story?!  
~The story takes place in the early 19th century in London, England. The setting holds the glittering life of the ton. Lady Bulma is eldest daughter to an earl. Her mother died when she was very young, but since then her father has remarried to a very sweet lady named Luna, who has been a second mother to Bulma. Luna and the Earl of Briefs had five aditional children together; two boys and three girls. Charlie is the eldest, then follow Marron (who looks like Krillin's girl, but I actually gave her some brains to go with it), Nadia, Gabriel and Augusta. Their residence is at Capsule Park, which has belonged to their ancestors since the first Earl of Briefs came to be.~  
Chapter 1 Times Change  
  
"She had no idea that he worshipped her, that his fascination was obsession, overwhelming and complete. She didn't know that she was different from all who had gone before."  
  
Disaster stared her in the face.  
  
Again.  
  
Seated at her desk in the library of Capsule Park, Bulma Briefs wondered when her father would ever learn how to deal with money. Or if he didn't, to just leave the moneydealings to her.  
  
She had first hoped that this had just been a mistake, that her father had not, once again.... Her hand shook as she reached for her teacup.  
  
From outside a youthfull cheer reached her, borne on the breeze wafting through the long windows. She took a sip, then hesitated to stand. She however, could not resist and gliding to the open French windows, she looked out over the lawn.  
  
Her stepbrothers and stepsisters where outside, playing an exuberant game of catch and the air was filled with laughter. Sunlight flashed on one fair head - Bulma's eldest stepbrother, Charlie, leaped high and snatched the ball from the air, before Gabriel, only ten but always game, could get it.  
  
Despite his emerging elegance and developing adulthood, Charlie, nineteen, was good-naturedly caught up in the game, indulging his juniors, Gabriel and Augusta, just six.  
  
Their older sisters, Marron, eightteen, and Nadia, seventeen, also joined in with enthousiasm.  
  
About to remove from Capsule Park to London, to introduce Marron and Nadia to the ton, the girls still felt no objection to indulge in innocent delight.  
  
A movement beneath a large oak caught Bulma's eye. Her stepmother Luna, and her father, the earl, waved from the swing on which they sat, indulgently watching their children.  
  
Smiling, Bulma returned the wave. Looking back at her stepsiblings, now headed in a wild melee towards the forest, she drew in a long, shaky breath, and turned her back on the scene by walking back into the library.  
  
She swore to herself then and there that nothing -NO ONE- was going to steal the simple peace and joy of her family. But the question was, how to preserve it? This might not be the first time she'd stood on the lip of the abyss and stared ruin - financial and social - in the face. Her glance strayed to the right deskdrawer where the wretched document at the heart of the matter lay.  
  
A promissory note.  
  
She could not even burn it to be rid of it, for it was just a copy. Her dear, vague, hopelessly impractical father had, entirely without understanding what he was about, signed away his family's future.  
  
The note was legally sound and executable, so if the call was made for the amount stipulated (which exeded the total income of the earldom), the family would be bankrupt. They would not only loose the minor properties and Briefs House in London, all still mortgaged to the hilt, but also Capsule Park, and everything that went with it.  
  
If she wished to ensure that Briefs remained at Capsule Park, that Charlie and his sons had their ancestral home intact to inherit, that her sweet stepsisters had their come-outs and the chance to make the marriages they deserved, she was going to have to find some way out of this.  
  
Just as she had before.  
  
This wasn't the first time her father had brought the earldom to the brink of ruin; many years before she had faced the prospect of poverty.  
  
On that day so long ago, when SHE had been about to have her come-out, she had changed course to safe her family. By doing so she'd knowledgebly turned her back on her own hopes and dreams for the future. She had done it all for them, but she would be damned to have it been all in vain.  
  
She would die before she let that happen!  
  
But the trouble was, what to do about it?  
************************************ And do finishes chapter 1. What will Bulma do? To find out, wait for the next chapter.  
  
Constructive flames are welcome, but be carefull; I don't want to burn up! 


	2. The Beginning of a Dangerous Game

Thanks for reviewing everyone!  
  
  
  
Chapter 2 The Beginning of a Dangerous Game  
  
  
  
Swirls of mist wreathed Vegeta's shoulders as he prowled the porch of St. Georges' Church, just off Hanover Square. The air had cooled and blew around him, while the street lamps spread their eerie light.  
  
It was three o'clock; fashionable London lay sleeping. The coaches ferrying late-night revelers home had ceased to rumble - an intense but watchful silence had settled over the town.  
  
Reaching the end of the porch, Vegeta swung around.  
  
Eyes narrowing, Vegeta studied the stone tunnel formed by the front of the church and the tall pilars supporting its facade. the mist twisted and swirled, obscuring his view.  
  
A chill slithered down his spine, like a premonition of faith.  
  
Three o'clock in the porch of St. Georges - that was what the note had said. He'd been half inclined to set it aside, a poor joke assuredly, but something in the words had brought forth an impulse more powerfull then mere curiosity.  
  
The note had been penned in desperation, although he could not fathom why he was so sure of that.  
  
The mysterious countess, who ever she was, had written simply and directly in her request to this meeting so she could explain her need for his aid.  
  
So he was here - where was she?  
  
On the thought, the city's bells tolled, the reverberations stirring the heavy blanket of the night. Not all the belltowers tolled the night watches; enough did to set up a strange cadence, a pattern of sound repeated in different registers, creating an illusion of life.  
  
The muted notes faded, then died.  
  
Silence, again, descended.  
  
Vegeta stirred.  
  
Impatient, he started pacing back on the porch, his stride slow, flowing, like a tiger descending on prey.  
  
And she appeared, stepping from the deep shadows about the church door. Mist clung to her skirts as she turned, slowly, regal like a queen, to face him. She was cloaked and veiled, as impenetrable, secret, and mysterious as the night.  
  
Vegeta narrowed his eyes.  
  
Had she been there all along?  
  
Had he walked past her without seeing or sensing her presence?  
  
His stride unfaltering, he prowled toward her. She lifted her head as he neared, but only slightly.  
  
She was very tall.  
  
Halting with only a foot between them, Vegeta discouvered to his surprise, he couldn't see over her head, which was amazing. He stood well over six feet tall (A/N: I have no idea how tall Vegeta and Bulma are, but I know Vegeta's small in comparison to the Z-fighters and other saiyan; one would be blind not to notice. But hey, maybe the others are giants and Vegeta just really tall, *wink wink*; who knows), the countess had to be six feet herself.  
  
Despite the heavy cloak, one expert glance had been enough to ensure him all her six feet were in perfect proportion.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Vegeta. Thank you for coming."  
  
He curtly inclined his head, putting any wild thought that this was some sort of witless lark - a youth dressed as a woman - aside.  
  
The few steps she had taken, the way she moved and turned - to his experienced senses, her movements defined her as female. And her tone was soft, low and husky, the very essence of woman.  
  
A mature woman - she was definately no young cypher.  
  
"Your note said you needed my help."  
  
"I do." After a moment she added, "My family does."  
  
"Your family?" In the gloom, her veil was impenetrable; none of her features were discernable.  
  
"My stepfamily, I should say."  
  
Her perfume reached him, exotic, alluring, it pulled at his senses.  
  
"Perhaps we'd better define just what your problem is, and why you think I can help." No question, just plain authority.  
  
"I know you can help. I would never have asked to meet you - would never reveal what I'm about to tell you - if I didn't know you'd be able to help." She paused, drew a breath on a shiver....  
  
"My problem concerns a promissory note signed by my late husband."  
  
"LATE husband?"  
  
She regally inclined her head. "I'm a widow."  
  
"How long ago did your husband die?"  
  
"A little over a year ago."  
  
"So his estate has been probated."  
  
"Yes, it is so. The title and entailed estates are now with my stepson, Charles."  
  
"Your stepson?"  
  
"I was not my husband's first wife. We were married some years ago - for him, it was a very late second marriage. He was ill for quite some time before his death. All the children were from his first wife."  
  
He hesitated, then asked, "Am I to understand they are not yours?"  
  
"Yes, that is so. I consider their welfare my responsibility. It's because of that -them- that I'm seeking your aid."  
  
Vegeta studied what he could see of her, which was not much and knew she was watching him.  
  
"You mentioned a promissory note."  
  
"I should explain to you first, my husband had a weakness for engaging in speculative ventures. Unfortunately, he did not have a head for business and so he knew not how to make profitable arrangements. Over the years, I have tried to keep his investiments in such schemes to a minimum, in which I have been largely successful.  
  
However, three weeks ago, a maid discovered a legal paper, when she was dusting the books in the library; she took them down, one by one, and the note went to the floor. As it turned out, it was a promissory note."  
  
"To which company?"  
  
"The Central Azian Gold Company."  
  
  
  
  
  
What will Vegeta say tot this? Will he help the elusive countess or just walk away? And who is this lady of the night? Read the next post to find out!  
  
Constructive flames are welcome, because I'll need a bridge to cross the River Qwai. Thanks for the reviews and keep'm coming! 


	3. Explain that!

Thanks to everyone for reviewing!  
  
Chapter 3 Explain that!  
The countess paused to gauge his reaction, then asked: "Have you heard of it?"  
  
Thoughtfully, he shook his head.  
  
"Not a whisper."  
  
"Neither have I, my agent or any of his colleagues."  
  
"The company's adress should be on the note, as well as the signature of the one responsible for drawing your husband in."  
  
"They're not - just the name of the firm of solicitors who drew up the document."  
  
Vegeta paused, giving her words some thought, before storing the pieces of information she handed him away, aware to his core that each piece had been carefully vetted first.  
  
"This note - do you have it with you?"  
  
Without hesitation she pulled out the note from underneath her cloak. Taking it, Vegeta inwardly raised his brows - she had most certainly come to this meeting prepared.  
  
And despite his efforts to catch a glimpse of her gown (A/N: And mayby more, LOL!) beneath the voluminous black cloak, he had not succeeded.  
  
She had even gloved her hands with gloves long enough to disappear beneath her sleeves.  
  
Unrolling the note, he moved to one of the street lamps and held the note so that the light fell upon it.  
  
The promissor's signature was the very first thing he looked at, but it was covered by a thick piece of parchment sealed into place with wax. He looked at the countess, then raised an eyebrow.  
  
Calmly, she answered the unstated question:  
  
"There is no need for you to learn our name."  
  
"And why, pray tell, not?"  
  
"That will become evident when you read the note."  
  
He did as she suggested (A/N: out of character, I know, but hey, he's curious!)  
  
"This has every appearance of being legal."  
  
He read it once more, then looked at her.  
  
"The investment is certainly large and, given the fact that it is speculative, therefore constitutes a very great risk. If the company has not been thoroughly investigated and properly vouched for, then this investment was unwise to say the least. I do not, however, see your problem."  
  
"The problem is simple and the core lies in the fact that the amount promised is considerably more than the present total worth of the earldom."  
  
Vegeta looked back at the amount written on the note and swiftly recalculated, but he hadn't misread.  
  
"If this sum will clean out the earldom's coffers, then...."  
  
"Precisely," the countess said decidedly. "I told you my husband was fond of speculation. The family has been standing on the brink of financial ruin for more then ten years, from even before I married into it. I only discovered the truth after our marriage. After that, we decided I should watch over financial matters, but sometimes my husband got seduced by promising looking prospects so.... Well, for the most part it worked and so I was able to keep the family's head above the water."  
  
Her voice strengthened in a vain attempt to hide her vulnerability from him,  
  
"That note, however, would be the end of it. In short our problem is tht the note DOES appear legal, so if it is executed and the money called in, the family will be bankrupt."  
  
"Which is the reason you don't wish for me to learn your name." Not a question, just a calm statement.  
  
"You know the haut ton - we move in the same circles. If any hint of our financial state, even without this note, would become common knowledge, social ruin would be the result. The children would never get the chance to take their rightful places in our world and I will do anything to prevent that from happening."  
  
Her eyes glittered behind her veil when she moved her head, betraying their wet state. A suddenly powerful feeling of protectiveness shook Vegeta and he shifted slightly.  
  
"Children, plural. You only mentioned Charles, the youthful earl. Who are the others?"  
  
She briefly hesitated before answering,  
  
"There are two girls, Maria and Natascha - we're in town at this moment because they're to be presented to the ton. I have saved for years so they could have proper come-outs...."  
  
Her voice shook, then died. After taking a couple of breaths, she added:  
  
"And there are two others, still to young to be presented, as well as an older niece, Helene; she's a part of the family as well."  
  
Vegeta listened, more to her tone than her words. Her devotion sounded clearly - the caring, the love. The anxiety.  
  
Whatever else the countess was consealing, she could not hide that.  
  
"You never told me, why you thought I would be able to help you."  
  
His tone was vague - he had already guessed the answer.  
  
"I believe this company is a fraud. In itself it is already suspicious that there is no signature or company's adress on the note, but the major indication is that the company did not investigate if we could actually pay the amount pledged. However no check was made. And if the company is indeed a fraud, we will not be able to gather enough prove to annulate the note. We, however, must succeed before the note is executed, and it has been more than a year since it was signed."  
  
Rerolling the note, Vegeta observed her.  
  
"Why me?"  
  
He handed the note to her and she took it, slipping it underneath her cloak.  
  
"You have build quite a reputation for exposing such schemes, and foremost, because you are who you are."  
  
He almost smirked. "And what does that matter?"  
  
"You like challenges."  
  
He looked at her veiled face. "True," he purred.  
  
"I also know I can trust you with our secret," she added.  
  
He raised a brow, inviting her to explain.  
  
She hesitated, then stated, "If you agree to help us, you must swear that you will, at no time, seek to identify me or my family."  
  
She paused, then said, "And if you do not agree to help I can trust you not to tell anyone of this meeting or anything you deduce from it."  
  
Vegeta regarded her with interest, she showed a boldness not often found in women - only that could explain the thought and execution of this charade. The countess was obviously an intelligent woman.  
  
She was deliberately offering him a challenge.  
  
He wondered though, if she knew SHE also posed as a challenge for him. But then again, did it really matter?  
  
He had decided he wanted her and so she would be his.  
  
"Will you help us?"  
  
A thought crossed Vegeta's mind, would he or wouldn't he?  
What do you think, will he or will he not? And will the countess be able to evade his tactics? Does she even want to?  
  
Review everyone and watch out for our next episode of Living on the Line! 


	4. We all have choices to make

Hey you guys, welcome back.  
  
I just had my 18th birthday yeah!  
  
Anyone wanna give me a review as a birthday present?  
  
*Niiri looks at you with watery, puppydog eyes*  
  
*************************  
  
Chapter 4 We all have choices to make  
  
The countess tried to study the face of the man who might very well be her last hope, her family's only chance. But in the gloom, all she saw was shadow, and all she could do was wait for an answer and hope for the best.  
  
She heard him exhail slowly and knew the time of truth had come. Quickly, she closed her eyes in a silent prayer for his answer......  
  
"I will help you. We will have to begin our search somewhere though, so what do you suggest?" Inwardly, he frowned at the 'our', it had somehow slipped out and now he'd said it, he could not take it back.  
  
"I have discovered the names of the company's sollicitors, the ones responsible for drawing up the note, Aigeon and Johnson."  
  
"Very well, it is a start. We cannot, however, inquire freely, because that will attract too much attention. And if the company IS a fraud as you suspect, that will only result in the execution of the note, especially if the person asking questions happens to be me."  
  
They had been standing for more than half an hour in the mausoleumlike porch.  
  
The temperature had dropped, and the cold mist left a frigid touch in the air; the chill of the mists was deepening still.  
  
Vegeta was aware of it, but in his cloak he wasn't cold. But he could see that beneath her cloak, the countess was tense, almost to the point of shivering.  
  
Lips thinning, he ruthlessly queled the impulse to draw her closer, to wrap her in his arms, and he stated some what more harshly than he'd wished:  
  
"By investigating the company, you risk the note being called in and your family being made bankrupt."  
  
If she was determined to brave the fire, she needed to understand she could get burned, severely as it was.  
  
He needn't have worried though, for she only tilted her chin defiantly, then nodded. "If we do nothing, my family will be bankrupt too. So as I see it, I really do not have much of a choice."  
  
"Very well then, I will help you. I also swear I will tell no one of this meeting."  
  
"Good! Now swear you will not seek to find our identity, ANY of our identities, on your honor."  
  
"I swear."  
  
Her sigh slithered like satin on skin, a brief stream of air in the night. "Yes." the word was but the merest of whispers.  
  
"When gentlemen reach an agreement, they usually shake hands." Inwardly, Vegeta smirked.  
  
She hesitated for the barest of seconds, then extended an hand towards him.  
  
He grasped it, then changed his hold, fingers sliding about hers until his thumb rested in her palm. Strenghtening his hold, he then quickly drew her to him.  
  
With a soft thud she landed against his chest. He felt, rather then heard her sudden intake of breath, a shocked quiver that rocked her.  
  
"I thought we were going to shake hands." The words sounded strangled, as if she'd just run a mile.  
  
"You're no gentleman." He once more studied her face, yet still ll he caught was the glint of her eyes in the dark shadows behind her veil. With her looking up at him, he could also see the outline of her lips, but nothing more.  
  
"When a gentleman and a lady seal a pact, they do it like this." Lowering his head, he set his lips to hers.  
  
Beneath the silk, they softened, tasting of pure honey, tempting him, luring him further. She barely reacted, but his prominent senses picked up a promise of passion from her.  
  
That kiss should have registered, as the most chaste of his career - instead, it was a spark set to tinder, prelude to a conflagration.  
  
And much to his chagrin this was also one of the most confusing moments of his life.  
  
Lifting his head, he looked at her veiled face and wondered if she knew. All she did however, was tense and step back, her eyes glimmering behind her veil.  
  
"How will I contact you?"  
  
"I will contact you." Was all she offered as she stepped away from him, away from danger.  
  
She turned in the swirling mists, then began to walk away.  
  
Not willing to let her go just yet, Vegeta reached for her arm, but quickly pulled back before he touched her. He whirled, the began to walk the long way homeward.  
  
On his way there, he reflected on the countess and the things he knew of her. Or rather, the things he did NOT know of her.  
  
She had talked like someone who knew him.  
  
That ment that he must know her too.  
  
Now the enigma remaining to be solved was "Who is she?"  
  
Had she not asked for his vow in the way she had, he would have found some way around it.  
  
As things stood now, however, all he could do was wait. He always had found a way, this time would be no different; all he needed was time.  
  
His mind shifted to the task at hand.  
  
Tomorrow he would look for the firm of sollicitors, he would claim his first reward.  
  
Vegeta smirked all the way home.  
  
*****************************  
  
And so ends Chapter 4.  
  
Please review people and thanks for the reviews already recheived.  
  
Watch and wait for the next episode of Living on the Line. 


	5. Not everything is as it seems

Nice to have ya back!  
  
Much will be revealed in this chapter, so keep on your toes.  
  
I'll be adding some characters, so if you can't keep up, tell me so in your review and with enough interests, I'll add a characterlist at the top of each chapter fom now on.  
  
Read and review peoples, enjoy yourselves!  
  
**********************************  
  
Chapter 5 Not everything is as it seemes  
  
"Well?! How did it go?"  
  
Raising her veil, Bulma stared at the group of eager faces clustered about the bottom of the stairs. She had only just crossed the threshold of Briefs House in Mount Street; behind her, Sampson, the butler, slid the bolts home and turned, as eager as the others, to not miss any of her tale.  
  
The question had come from Celie, Bulma's maid, an old, and valued servant, even a friend. Surrounding Celie stood other members of the senior staff and all very supportive of Bulma. All were in their nightclothes and waiting for her return.  
  
"Come now, m'lady, don't keep us in suspense."  
  
She smiled at the faithfull faces as she pulled of her gloves, then placed them on the side table. Turning around, she began her story:  
  
"He agreed."  
  
A collective sigh if relief was her eward to that promising notice.  
  
"Well - there now!" Thin as a rake, Miss Graham, the governess, nervously clutched her blue wrapper, "I'm sure Mr. Vegeta will take care of it all........"  
  
"Praise be," intoned Gaylen (A/N: boy, arent'I the funny one with names, just hope I'll remember it all later myself LOL), Luna's strickt dresser.  
  
"Indeed so -" Bulma walked forward, "but you should all be in bed; this is not a pyjama-party. He has agreed to help - there is nothing more to say about the matter," she caught Celie's eye while saying this, stilling her frowning servant.  
  
Bulma shooed off and back to their beds, then she headed up the stairs and to her own chambers with Celie on her heels, lighting the way with a candle.  
  
"So what really happened?" Celie hissed as they reached the gallery.  
  
"Shhh!" Bulma gestured down the dark corridor.  
  
Celie grumbled, but held her tongue as they passed the door to Bulma's parents rooms, then the of Nadia and Marron, eventually reaching her own room at the far end of the corridor.  
  
Celie closed the door softly behind them, Bulma untied her cloak, letting it poal about her feet. Celie snatched it up, then said:  
  
"So now, my little lady - you're not going to tell me he didn't see through your disguise?"  
  
"Ofcourse he did not - I told you he would not."  
  
He would most certainly not have kissed her if he had.  
  
Sitting down, she let her hair fall free from the constriction of hairpins, making a wave of blue fall over her back. Massaging though it, she tried to ease the tension - her scalp hurt.  
  
Celie came to help, taking stray pins out of the silky soft mass.  
  
"I cannot believe after all the years you two spend rollin' about the fields that he wouldn't simply look at you, veil and cloak or not, and instantly know who you are."  
  
"You keep forgetting Celie - that despite the years we spent, so to speak, 'rollin' about the fields,' Veggie has barely seen me over a decade. Just the odd meeting here and there."  
  
"He did not even recognize your voice?"  
  
Celie sounded sceptic at the thought.  
  
"No, I altered the tone." She'd spoken as she would have to her littlelest sister, her tone warm and low, now she thought about it; like a lover's caress, not tart and waspish as when she normaly spoke with him.  
  
Well, except for when she was breathless....... but he had not heard that before either.  
  
Not being in control had made her nervous though, she couldn't recall ever feeling so nervous and skittish before.  
  
"Have some faith Celie, I'm a very good actress."  
  
Celie frowned but didn't argue. Instead, she started to brush Bulma's long tresses, making Bulma relax.  
  
She excelled at charades, she could think herself into a part very well, as long as she understood the character. In this case, that was easy.  
  
"I stuck to the truth as much as possible; he truly believes I am a countess."  
  
Celie humphed. "I still can't see why you couldn't simply write him a nice letter, asking him to look into this company for you."  
  
"Because I would have had to sign it with 'Bulma Briefs', I told you that already."  
  
"He would have done it, I'm certain of it."  
  
"Oh, he wouldn't have refused, but he wouldn not have handled it himself either, he would have just handed it to some employee to do it for him. Without telling Veggie WHY it's so desperately needful to prove this company a fraud it wouldn't have seemed important - important enough to stir him PERSONALY to action."  
  
"Then why don't you just tell him -"  
  
"NO! Absolutely not!" Bulma's eyes flashed open and she sat up straight. For one instant, the lines between maid and mistress became crystal clear. Then Bulma let her stern expression fall, she drew in a steadying breath, and settled back on the stool.  
  
"Believe it or not Celie, I still have my pride."  
  
She shut her eyes again as Celie resumed her brushing.  
  
"Sometimes, I think it's all I truly have left...... I cannot risk it by telling him all of it. No one knows how close to ruin we came - what depth of ruin we now face. I would not be able to face his compassion."  
  
"He would understand, he wouldn't noise it abroad."  
  
"That's not the point, it never was. But he's so incredibly rich........"  
  
"Don't see how that matters meself."  
  
Bulma felt the familiar tugs as Celie started braiding her hair (A/N: if you don't know the feeling, go braid your hair LOL).  
  
"Let's just say that while I CAN cope with fraudulent companies and imminent disaster, the one thing I really don't think I COULD face is pity."  
  
HIS pity.  
  
Celie let out a sigh. "Well, if that's how you feel........"  
  
After a brief silence, filled with the braiding of Bulma's hair (A/N: she has a lot of hair, okay LOL), Celie asked wonderingly:  
  
"But then how did you get him to agree to helping? If you didn't tell him...."  
  
"I DID tell him. All of it. I could hardly expect him to help without knwoing the details, and he certainly wouldn't have helped if there hadn't been a real family and a real threat. As he sees it, I am the countess and you all are my family:  
  
I cast my father as my dead husband, with me as the countess ofcourse, his second wife, and all the children as my stepchildren, instead of my stepbrothers and step-sisters. Luna I made into a niece."  
  
She paused, remembering it all clearly.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Bulma looked up into Celie's concerned face.  
  
"It's no use telling me nothing went wrong: I can always tell when you look like that."  
  
"Nothing went WRONG."  
  
She wasn't about to tell Celie about that kiss.  
  
"I just hadn't thought of names for all the children. I used Charles for Charlie; it's a common enough name after all...... I really hadn't expected Veggie to ask about the others. I just panicked when he did..... I was so deep into being the countess I lost myself and couldn't think. I had to make them up instantly or he would have grown suspicious."  
  
"YOU TOLD HIM THEIR REAL NAMES?!"  
  
"Not exactly." Bulma stood up and Celie started unlacing her gown.  
  
"So what did you call them then?"  
  
"Maria, Natascha and Helene, as that's Luna second name. I skipped the others."  
  
"WHAT?! What'll happen when he just happens to look through one of those fine books of his that lists the lot of you? He'll just look up the earls with you being a countess and all - and it'll jump of the page at him, smacking him right in the face. And he'll know who you are then, too."  
  
Celie helped her out of the gown.  
  
"Wouldn't want to be in your shoes then, miss - not when he finds out. He won't be pleased."  
  
(A/N: who would have thought he wouldn't be pleased? Get real he'd love it........ when hell freezes over and the devil wears a tutu that is LOL)  
  
"I know." Bulma shivered and prayed Celie would think she was cold.  
  
She knew exactly what would happen if luck turned on her and Vegeta discovered SHE was his mysterious countess - that she was the woman he'd kissed on the porch of St. Georges.  
  
All hell would break lose.  
  
She would much prefer meeting the devil to him then.  
  
He didn't have a temper any more than she did.  
  
Which ment he didn't appear to have one, untill he lost it.  
  
"That is the reason why I made him swear not to seek out my identity. This way, he'll never know."  
  
Why would her stomach not relax then?  
  
It had been churning ever since he'd kissed her.  
  
Bulma glided to the bed; Celie bustled ahead, turning down the covers and removing the copper warming pan. (A/N: don't I think of everything?! LOL)  
  
"When this is over, the countess wil simply disappear into the mists." Bulma waved her hand dismissingly.  
  
Celie sniffed, but said no more.  
  
She silently left the room, leaving Bulma lying in bed, trying to unlock the muscles that had locked when he'd kissed her.  
  
The one thing she had not foreseen, was being kissed by her childhood playmate......  
  
**********************************  
  
Whohoe! Who would have guessed (except for me that is), that this would happen.  
  
*Niiri closes eyes and wishes that there would be no people smart enough, but probably in vain*  
  
Well, let me know if you enjoyed it, 'cause I trive on your sweet reviews....  
  
*Niiri floats up into the air just thinking about it.*  
  
So please review my sweet peoples and watch for our new episode of Dragonball Z. 


	6. So many memories, make some new ones

A new chapter already; how time flies..... well maybe not for you guys, since you had to wait LOL.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but myself.  
  
First I want to thank evryone for reviewing and for the questions:  
  
Nicka, you asked how Vegeta and Bulma know eachother. Well, their families are close friends, and as you'll notice later, they're not friends, they usually fight. They used to be friends when they were kids though and spend a lot of time together. Why they fight now will be explained later on in the story, so you'll have to wait on that LOL.  
  
Chocolate kiss, you said I should make some more resemblances to DBZ characters. Well, don't worry they're in the story; they're just not Bulma's staff and they are there because I thought that Bulma, rather than her stepmother should be in charge of the household and so she has friends there too. And as I wrote down before, if you or anyone else can't keep up with who's who, just tell me so in your review nad I'll add a list of characters at the beginning of each chapter. Just read this chapter and it'll become clear. Oh and as for lemon, that'll come, 'cause how long you think Vegeta's gonna wait for that? Bulma's a lady though, so she'll try to avoid it at all cost, so it'll mostly be stolen moments, it's up to her to keep a rake at bay. But hey, were talking about Vegeta here; he's resourcefull.....  
  
Confused, I'm explaining in this chapter so don't blow your brains out thinking about it LOL. Just settle back and everything will be explained in good time.  
  
The rest of you who reviewed, thank you for the compliments. *Niiri's face gets so hot you can almost bake an egg on it*  
  
But I won't keep you waiting any longer, so on with the story:  
**********************************************  
  
Chapter 6 So many memories, make some new ones.  
  
Sighing, Bulma sat at the breakfast table, staring into space and thinking of the past and the present:  
  
She'd won her first battle; Veggie was ready to fight beside her. For the first time since she'd layed eyes on the wretched promissory note, she allowed herself to believe in ultimate victory.  
  
Veggie had been the one, perfectly armed knight she'd had to win to her side.  
  
The ton would know nothing of her escapades, all they would see was a spinster (her being 29 already), who was leading her stepbrother Charlie and her stepsisters Marron and Nadia around.  
  
She also knew precisely why Veggie wouldn't have helped her as he would the countess, although it wasn't something she was eager to explain, not even to her loyal Celie.  
  
She and Veggie disliked being in the same room, certainly not within ten feet of each other. Any closer proximity was like touching nettles.  
  
The peculiarety had afflicted them from the age of eleven and twelve (A/N: Veggie's only a year older, or so I've decided); since then, it had been a constant in their lives.  
  
They had gone from close friends to irritators and WHAT had caused it stiil remained a mystery.  
  
As their younger selves, they had tried to ignore it, pretend it wasn't there, but the relief they both felt when her growing up and impending ladyhood (A/N: as in no more closeness to boys or you're reputation's ruined) has spelled an end to their all but daily association had been far to real to ignore.  
  
Of course they'd never discussed it, not even mentioned it, but his reaction was there for her to see, in the sharpening of his onyx gaze, in the sudden tensing of his muscles, in the difficulty he had remaning near her for more than a few minutes.  
  
Uncomfortable wasn't an adequate description - that word didn't even begin to describe their affliction.  
  
She'd never been able to decide if she reacted to him as he did to her (A/N: so it could all be his fault LOL), or if her aggravation arose in response to his.  
  
Whatever the truth, it didn't matter, their mutual affliction was something they'd learned to live with, learned to hide, and ultimately, learned to avoid.  
  
Which ment that neither of them of them would stay near the other for any longer than absolutely necessairy, for they could reduce each other to a mass of quivering rage in under three minutes.  
  
She couldn't believe, if she were to ask for his help, that he'd break the habit of years and readily spend hours in her company - or, if he did, that it wouldn't drive them both demented in the proces.  
  
More to the point, she hadn't been able to afford the risk of finding out.  
  
If she'd presented her problem to his as herself, only to have him redirect her to someone else, she couldn't have proceded to appear as the countess afterwards.  
  
NO CHOICE.  
  
If he ever found out, he would never forgive her......  
  
if he ever learned of her being the countess.  
  
But she'd had no choice, and her consciense wasn't troubeling her, not really.  
  
If there had been any other way.....  
  
any road to take without deceiving him......  
  
she would gladly have taken it, but.........  
  
She was half in fantasy, drifting in the mists, her mind reliving bits and pieces of their midnight rendezvous, revolving more and more around that unnerving kiss......  
  
To just to suddenly focus;  
  
Their affliction had not appeared that night...........  
  
"Bulma. B-U-L-M-A! Whoo-hoo! Can you pass the butter please?"  
  
With a start Bulma focused on the present - Marron was pointing accross the breakfasttable.  
  
Bemusedly glancing in that direction, she reached out without thinking and sunk her hand into the butter, making everyone stare.  
  
Cursing under her breath, she cleaned her hand with a napkin, then lifted the butter dish and passed it on.  
  
"You're really out of it today." Luna observed from her place at the head of the table which happened to be right next to Bulma.  
  
Bulma waved dismissively. "I didn't sleep all that well last night."  
  
Inwardly she grimaced, she'd been so preoccupied the previous day that she had not rested before meeting Veggie.  
  
And afterwards.......  
  
after her success, after that kiss, after realizing........  
  
She shook aside the distraction that had landed her hand in the butter.  
  
(A/N: and her nervous in the gutter if you ask me....)  
  
"I'm not used to all the streetsounds."  
  
"Perhaps you should move to another room then?"  
  
Looking at Luna's concerned face, Bulma clasped her stepmothers hand (A/N: with the hand that hadn't gone into the butter previously of course).  
  
"Don't worry about me. I'm perfectly happy with my room. It faces the back gardens as it is and I'll get used to the sounds soon enough."  
  
Luna's face eased. "Wel,..... if you're absolutely certain. But now that you're awake" -her fine eyes twinkled with surpressed laughter- "I wanted you to check how much we can afford on new dresses for the girls."  
  
Bulma gladly gave Luna her attention, anything to get her mind of her own worries.  
  
Soon, Luna's worries were eased and was she debating colors with Nadia and Marron.  
  
Bulma then turned to her youngest stepsister, sitting quietly beside her, a large doll in her lap.  
  
"And how are you and Lily today poppet?"  
  
Lady Augusta Briefs raised huge blue eyes to Bulma's face and smiled trustingly.  
  
"I had a lovely time in the garden this morning, but Lily here" -she turned the doll to Bulma so she could inspect her- "has been FRACTIOUS. Miss Graham and I think we should take her for a walk this afternoon?"  
  
(A/N: imagine a six year old talking like that LOL. Don't tell me it doesn't happen though *me look at you threateningly*, because I talked like that myself. Now I think about it, maybe I always were crazy..... oh wait, I'll stop boring you......)  
  
"A walk? What a lovely idea, it's just what we need." Marron bounced on her chair, more then ready for some excitement.  
  
It was thus decided that they would go out, albeit in separate groups.  
  
When the girls had raced of to get their bonnets, the earl stopped by Bulma's side, his fingers light on her arm.  
  
"Is everything all right?" he asked quietly.  
  
Bulma looked up and glimpsed shadows of pain and regret in his eyes, and she smiled up at him reassuringly; she caught his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.  
  
"Everything's going well."  
  
He'd been devastated when he'd learned the truth about the promissory note.  
  
He'd thought the sum pledged was much smaller; the wording of the note was such that arithmetic and advanced calculus were required to determine the total sum, which turned out to be enormous.  
  
He had but sought to get something extra for his girls, for their weddings.  
  
She had assured him that it wasn't all so bad though.......  
  
Well bad, but certainly not the END.  
  
And despite the fact that she'd spend most of her adult life trying to fix what her father had broken, losing her own life, the life she'd been entitled to, as someones wife, in the process, Bulma had never found the heart to hold it against him.  
  
He was the most lovable, and loving, man and simply very incapable when it came to money.  
  
Her father smiled sadly at her, looking very forlorn.  
  
"Is there anything I can do?"  
  
(A/N: Everyone: "NO PLEASENO!")  
  
She hugged his arm to her.  
  
"Just keep doing what you've been doing so well, Papa - keep Gabriel entertained and out of mischief."  
  
She drew back, Luna approached and said:  
  
"Now, if Bulma says there's nothing to worry about, then there's no sense worrying, She'll keep us informed; you know she always does."  
  
Her father nodded solemnly and went to do what he was best at; keeping the kids entertained.  
  
Charlie, Gabriel, Marron, Nadia and Augusta  
  
They were the ultimate reasons she's invented the countess.  
  
Bulma thought that if Vegeta discovered her deception, he very likely wouldn't disagree with her motives.  
  
He wouldn't like the rest of it though, so there was little hope there.  
  
Sighing, she took the bonnet Nadia handed her and followed the others into the carriage that would take them to a secluded, unfashionable park.  
  
*************************************************  
  
And for so far this chapter.  
  
Next time: Bulma and Vegeta meet near the park. The countess and Vegeta meet somewhere else though.........  
  
So keep alert for the next episode of Dragonball Z.  
  
Read and please review.  
  
*Niiri looks at the wonderful, kind, exceptional, sweet..... and now kind of naucious people who are sweet enough to review*  
  
Okay, now I even made me naucious LOL, but PLEASE review *puppydog eyes* and I'll have another chapter up pretty soon. 


	7. Midnight Rendezvous

Okay, first of all I want to thanks SatansFlower, Felicity, Nicka, KamalaKali, Anime Goddess, Da Bomb and Jewel for reviewing chapter 6.  
  
Secondly I'd like to thank rach for the warning about chapter 1 and to note that I fixed that.  
  
Thirdly I'd like to say "sorry for the wait, but the chapter's extra long, so I hope that makes it up!" I just had some troubles of a more personal nature which I won't bore you with.  
  
So let's get on with the story now: Enjoy!  
  
*****************************  
  
Chapter 7 Midnight Rendezvous  
  
After having looked into the firm of sollicitors, Vegeta wandered around somewhat amelessly.  
  
Now knowing where they were located, he was cataloging his options.  
  
Would the countess contact him that evening?  
  
Was she impatient enough to do so?  
  
If so, what would she wear..... Hold on, that didn't belong there.  
  
His thoughts kept wondering, the possibility of what might be tantalized, even more so as the realization sank in that her impatience could not possibly match his.  
  
While with her, he'd felt like he knew her.....  
  
knew the sort of woman she was,..............  
  
the things she wanted from life;...................  
  
Away from her, he'd realized how little he actually knew of the real woman behind the veil, things he wanted to know.  
  
Learning more, quickly, seemed imperative - he ESPECIALLY needed to learn how to put his hand on a woman who thus far had been but a phantom in the night, always just out of reach.  
  
Unfortunately, he couldn't learn more until she contacted him - at least now, when she did, he'd have something to report, and thus, a reward to claim..........  
  
"Vegeta!"  
  
"Over here!"  
  
The voices coming from the parc were definately feminine, equally definately young.  
  
Halting, Vegeta scanned his surroundings; two sweet young things, their parasols tilted at crazy angles; were bobbing up and down and waving madly.  
  
Squinting against the sunlight, he recognized Marron and Nadia Briefs.  
  
Raising his cane in greeting (A/N: I decided that Vegeta needed a cane in this story for when he goes out, like a true 18th century gentleman hmn, hmn....), he strode across the street towards them.  
  
Bulma saw him coming, and had to fight down an urge to screech at her sisters - what had they DONE?  
  
Her sister took no notice of her distres though, they were to busy waving at the lean figure approaching them.  
  
He had remained ignorant of her presence which had suited her just right, she was almost ready to breath again, when fate struck it's blow and send him right at her.  
  
She presumed the only reason he was here would be at the countess's behalf, but if she'd known that would take him here she wouldn't have come.  
  
Having him find her anywhere near any location he would associate with the countess had formed no part of her carefully laid out plans.  
  
She needed to keep her two personas completely separate, ESPECIALLY near him.  
  
If not, he'd see right through her and her plans.  
  
As he'd walked along the street, cane swinging, broad, muscled shoulders square, sunlight had gleamed on his nightblack hair, highlighting the tips.  
  
Her thoughts had slowed, halted.....  
  
She had completely forgotten that Marron and Nadia were with her untill they'd seen him and called him over - NOW THERE WAS NO ESCAPE.  
  
As he came closer, she drew in a breath, lifted her chin defyingly, tightened her fingers around her parasol handle untill they were fists - and tried her hardest to quell her panic.  
  
He couldn't recognize lips he'd kissed but not seen, could he?!  
  
Smirking, Vegeta reached Marron and Nadia who stopped jigging and just beamed; only then, with his eyes adjusting to the shadows under the trees and their movement no longer distracting him, did he see the lady standing behind them.  
  
BULMA  
  
His stride almost faltered.  
  
She stood straight and tall, like an unmovable fortress and as silently contained, her parasol held at precisely the right angle to protect her fine skin from the sun.  
  
Of course she was not waving at him.  
  
Masking his reaction to her - the powerfull jolt that shook him whenever and wherever he saw her, most times unexpectedly, and the prickling sensation that followed - he continued his stride towards them.  
  
She watched him with her usual cool and haughty regard, the costumary challenge of her look - a haughty watchfulness that never failed to prick his temper.  
  
Forcing his gaze away from her and into saver waters, he greeted her sisters.  
  
"We were absolutely amazed to see you!" Nadia said.  
  
"We've been to this park twice already." Marron told him, "but that was earlier than this. You probably weren't about."  
  
Refraining from replying that he rarily inhabited the park, at least not during fashionable hours, he fought to keep his gaze on them and to not let it slide to Bulma.  
  
"I had not realized that you all were in town." Vegeta frowned; he had not seen them in many a month.  
  
Then, with an easy charm that masked the beast within, he complimented both girls, answered their questions, displaying the mask he usually wore in London; much to their delight.  
  
Yet while he distracted them with trivialities, his attention remained rivited on the cool presence a few feet away.  
  
Why that should be so was an abiding mystery....  
  
Marron and Nadia were delightful young women.  
  
Bulma in contrast was cool, composed, still, a lady in every way - and in some more peculiar way, a lodestone for his senses.  
  
The girls were as bubbling, tumbling streams, while Bulma was a deep pool of peace, calm, and something he'd never succeeded in defining.  
  
SHE was a mystery and HE was intensely aware of her, as she was of him; he was acutely concious of the fact that they had not exchanged greetings.  
  
They never did.  
  
Not really.  
  
Steeling himself against the impact, he slowly lifted his gaze from Marron's and Nadia's faces to look at Bulma.  
  
His lips thinned, "I had not realized you were in London."  
  
His tone suggested he rather had her on the moon instead.  
  
He was speaking directly to her, a shocking event in itsself, but his tone was quite different from when he'd spoken to her sisters; it held no warmth.  
  
Suddenly, Bulma felt majorly pissed, "It's nice to see you too Vegeta. It is a lovely day. We came up to town a week ago."  
  
He stiffened.  
  
Bulma could sense it, even though she did not see.  
  
Her stomach knotted with panic, she frantically sought distraction, her gaze fell on the girls.  
  
"Marron and Nadia will have their come-outs shortly."  
  
After a few seconds of hesitation, he followed where she let, "Indeed so?"  
  
Ignoring her for the moment, he questioned her sisters on their plans.  
  
Bulma tried to breath evenly, to not let her panic surface....  
  
She refused to look his way.  
  
She knew his face as well as her own: the large, heavily hooded eyes, the mobile lips given to smirks, the regal planes of nose and forehead, the uncompromisingly square chin.  
  
He was tall enough to see over her head and strong enough to subdue her if he wished; ruthless enough to do so.  
  
There was nothing about him physically that she didn't already know, nothing to set such a sharp edge to her usual tension.  
  
Well, nothing beyond the fact that she'd seen him last night in the porch of St. Georges, while he hadn't seen her, he didn't know it......  
  
The memory of his lips covering hers, of the enchanting touch of his fingers beneath her chin, the heat it had brought. It locked her lungs, tightened her nerves, set her senses leaping.  
  
Her lips tingled.  
  
She dragged her wits back in place just in time to hear her sisters invite him to their ball, his easy acceptance.  
  
Her senses lurched again.  
  
He turned to her, his lips moved....  
  
"What?" she gasped and he looked at her quizically.  
  
"Will you be taking the girls around town?"  
  
"Yes.....," her answer vibrated in the air between them......  
  
"We came here to avoid the more rakish elements, it is quiet enough a parc afterall." Coolly, she shrugged.  
  
Rakish elements ......... like him.  
  
She'd chosen to live her life buried in the country - why she thought that gave her the right to disapprove of his lifestyle he did not know; he only knew she did.  
  
"Indeed?"  
  
He debated the wisdom of pressuring her, for her real reason of being here as well as her impertinence in disapproving of him. The girls weren't in their league, they wouldn't understand their meaning.  
  
This, however, was Bulma.  
  
She was intractably stubborn.....  
  
He would learn nothing she didn't wish him to know.  
  
She also possessed a wit equal to his own; if he attacked they'd both bleed.  
  
Lips smirking, he shot her a glance - she met it fearlessly.  
  
She was watching, waiting, as aware of the direction of his thoughts as he.  
  
She was ready and willing to engage in one of their costumary duels.  
  
No TRUE gentleman EVER disappointed a lady.  
  
On ANY scale......  
  
"Well, since you'll be in town for a while I'll see what kind of amusements I'll be able to stir your way."  
  
"There's no need to go through so much trouble - unlike SOME people I know, we do not need to be constantly amused."  
  
"Unless one is constantly amused, life amongst the ton is VERY boring. And if you're not bored, why are you here?"  
  
"A wish to avoid impertinent gentlemen."  
  
"How fortunate for you then, that I happened upon you. If this is truly your aim, a lady within the ton can never be too careful. There's no telling WHERE she might find the most shocking impertinence."  
  
Bulma's wide blue eyes blinked wider on him, then clouded.  
  
Her voice was suprisingly steady when she spoke, "You forget that I can deal with any impertinence that might come my way, unamusing though it may be."  
  
"It is strange to say then, that most ladies find such encounters not unamusing at all."  
  
"You forget; I am not MOST LADIES! I am not like YOU!"  
  
"That is because you have yet to experience them. Are you not used to riding every day? I dare say you'll need SOMETHING to replace the exercise.........."  
  
He raised eyes filled with limpid innocence to her blue ones, expecting to meet a narrow-eyed glance charged with lightning.  
  
Instead, her eyes were wide, not shocked but...........  
  
he looked closer to define their expression.  
  
Defensive.  
  
He'd made her defensive.  
  
He felt guilt rise within his chest.  
  
HELL!  
  
Even when he won, he still lost.  
  
He looked away, trying to surpress the agression she had evoked, to act normally.  
  
Reasonably.  
  
He shrugged lightly, "I must be on my way."  
  
"I dare say."  
  
She left it at that, and he was glad of it too.  
  
Fighting with Bulma was not so much satisfying as it was painful.  
  
He said his goodbyes to the girls, then turned to gaze into her eyes.  
  
It was like looking into a mirror; when he looked into hers, he saw his own thoughts and feelings, reflected over and again, into infinity.  
  
Not so today.  
  
Today all he saw was a defined defensiveness - a shield shutting him out.  
  
Protecting her from him.  
  
He blinked, breaking the link.  
  
With a curt nod, which she returned, he turned and strode off.  
  
He hadn't taken her hand, and she hadn't offered it.  
  
He couldn't remember the last time he'd touched her, but it hadn't been in the last decade.  
  
He crossed the street, wriggling his shoulders as the peculiar tension she'd evoked drained; he called it relief he could get away from her, but knew he was lying. The next time he saw her, he'd go to her again.  
  
It was the reaction - the one he'd never understood but which she evoked so strongly - subsiding again.  
  
Untill next they met.  
  
Bulma watched him walk away, her senses calming.  
  
Others never saw anything odd about them, well, no one but his brother Goku, presumably because they'd all grown up side by side, and Goku knew them both so well (A/N: so Goku's Vegeta's brother here, live with it! LOL).  
  
As her pulse slowed, relief bloomed within her; he had not recognized her.  
  
Indeed, after the total absence of his typical reaction to her when he'd met the countess last night, combined with the strong reappearance of it in the last hour, she doubted he'd ever make the connection and thus find out the truth.  
  
Shaking herself, she turned to her sisters. "Come girls, let's stroll around."  
  
How hard could it be to find what he'd found?  
  
*******************************************************  
  
Meanwhile, later that day:  
  
Vegeta sat in the parlor wondering what was wrong with him; he tried to think about the countess, but Bulma kept creeping back into his thoughts.  
  
Why had she been defensive?  
  
What had she been doing in the park?  
  
Interrupting his thoughts, Goku strolled in.  
  
Closing his eyes, Vegeta tried to concentrate, while Goku strode over to the mantlepiece to check his invitations, "Which have you chosen?"  
  
"I haven't." Vegeta answered. "They all seem similarly boring."  
  
Goku looked at him shocked. "Boring?! Be careful using that word, who knows where it might land you!"  
  
"Don't worry about it, I can take care."  
  
Goku shot him a cynical look, but left it there, it was not his business after all. "I'll be going to Letty Chester's soiree." He shot Vegeta a glance. "Coming?"  
  
"Who'll be there?"  
  
Goku's trademark smile flashed.  
  
"A certain delightful young matron whose husband finds the bills before Parliament more enticing than she."  
  
That was Goku's speciality - convincing ladies of insufficiently serviced passions that permitting him to service them was in their best interests. (A/N: Goku's a rake too; he hasn't met Chi Chi yet. I'm thinking of writing a sequal to this story about Goku and Chi Chi, so if you're interested in that, tell me so in your review).  
  
Considering his brother's long, lean frame and rakishly disheveled black locks, Vegeta raised a brow. "What's the odds?"  
  
"None at all." Goku strolled to the door. "She'll surrender. Not tonight, but soon. I'll leave you to your thoughts." With a wave, he opened the door; an instant later it clicked shut behind him.  
  
Vegeta studied the door, then let his eyes slide to the fire burning in the grate.  
  
He felt comfortable and safe, not risking his freedom in the ballrooms full of tempting ladies. Every lady was hoping he'd marry; well, let them hope, but fall he wouldn't.  
  
He surveyed the stack of books on the side table, yet...... he'd rather consider the countess - all six feet of her.  
  
It was rare to meet a lady so tall (A/N: for as far as I could see Bulma was only small in comparison to men, so in my story she's tall for a girl.......)  
  
Bulma was nearly as tall.  
  
A few minutes later, he shook aside the unbidden thoughts that had crowded into his mind.  
  
Confusing thoughts.  
  
Unsettling thoughts.  
  
Disturbing thoughts.  
  
Thoughts that left him more distracted than he could ever remember feeling.  
  
Clearing his mind he focussed on the countess.  
  
He enjoyed helping people - not in the general sense but specifically.  
  
Individual people.  
  
Like the countess.  
  
He didn't like to show it though, he more or less helped them without having them realising he WAS indeed helping them.  
  
People only saw his detachment, not the commitment he placed in helping, showed by so many little things, easily found if anyone would care to look.....  
  
Well, the countess needed his help.  
  
And what was more important; she had asked it.  
  
Bulma didn't, and hadn't.  
  
She probably never would and given how he felt, that was probably all for the best.  
  
His gaze fixed on the flames, he kept his mind on the countess - on plotting the next phase in their investigation, and planning the next stage of her seduction...........  
  
***************************************************************  
  
At one o'clock in the morning:  
  
Vegeta stood outside Aigeon and Johnson's office, on the side walk near the park where he'd met Bulma earlier that day.  
  
Light shone from a few higher windows, where clerks presumably laboured through the night; no one had seen him slip past though; his presence had remained unnoticed, he had been nothing more than a spectre in the night.  
  
Now he stood in front of the door, reaching in his pocket for a lockpick.  
  
On instinct he tried the latch and was surprised to find the door swinging silently open.  
  
Vegeta stared at the door, at the lock that had been unlocked, and tried to imagine a clerk shutting up and going home without locking up.  
  
That scenario wasn't convincing.  
  
Silent as a mouse he walked in and shut the door behind him, easing the bolt home.  
  
Silently he moved on to the corridor, his footfalls muffled by the runner on the floor, wondering if it was possible that Mr. Johnson was working late.  
  
The occasionally pulsing light he saw, presumably came from a lamp turned very low; the lamp was also partially screened, the light thrown back into the room, away from the windows, presumably towards Johnsons desk and work.  
  
Pausing on the threshold, Vegeta listened.  
  
He heard someone flicking pages, then suffling of papers, a box being shut, a box opening, more flicking: it did not sound like Mr. Jonhson at all!  
  
Reaching out, he pushed the door open and looked in.  
  
A tall cloaked and hooded figure stood before the large desk belonging to Mr. Jonhson, rifling the papers she'd lifted from one of the boxes stacked on the desktop.  
  
Her gloved hands gave her away, as did the curve of her jaw, fleetingly revealed when she tilted her head, angling a document so that the light fell more definately on it. The lamp stood on the desk to her left, a tall ledger propped around it to act as a screen.  
  
Conscious of the tension leaving muscles he hadn't even been aware of tensing, Vegeta leaned back gainst some bookshelves and considered.  
  
He waited untill she was finished with her box, then made a move towards her.  
  
A floorboard squeaked.  
  
She gasped.  
  
Papers scattered.  
  
In a furious frenzy she flicked down her veil and whirled, so quickly that despite watching closely, he failed to even catch a glimpse of her face.  
  
One hand at her breast, the other clutching the edge of the desk behind her, the countess stood, still as much a mystery as ever.  
  
They simply stared at each other...........  
  
******************************  
  
OOOH! Evil cliffy!  
  
What did you think of it? In other words: Please Review!  
  
Keep on the look out for the exiting happenings in the next episode of Dragonball Z! 


	8. Unwanted encounter

Thanks to Nitte iz, Felicity, SatansFlower, Lucel and didoda for reviewing the last chapter!  
  
If you want a sequal to this fic with Goku and Chi Chi tell me so in your review.  
  
Enough said now: on with the fic.... *********************************************************************  
  
Chapter 8 Unwanted encounter  
  
Clearly startled the countess struggled to register and place his presence in her mind.  
  
With an obvious effort, she caught her breath and said in the same low tone he remembered, "It's you", thus breaking the silence hanging about them.  
  
He bowed, "As you see."  
  
She continued to stare at him, as if not believing he was truly there. "You.....gave me quite a start."  
  
The only answer she got to that statement, was a slow quirking of his lips.  
  
Vegeta smirked at the vision before him. Even now he wanted to know what she concealed, wanted to touch her to know if her skin was soft, her breath warm.  
  
Shaking himself, he was forced to look away, before walking to her.  
  
She didn't back away, maybe because she could not with the desk behind her, but turned around to the desk and picked up the scattered papers there, while he bend down and picked them of the floor. Reaching around her, he placed the papers on the table.  
  
She stilled, obviously skittish, so he moved away.  
  
Breathing hard, Bulma tried to calm her racing pulse.  
  
She had just been trying to come to terms with the fact that he was here, when he'd bend around her, stealing her breath away again.  
  
Meanwhile Vegeta looked through the papers and replaced them, then reached for the next box, just as she reached for it too.  
  
Their hands met, skin to silky glove......  
  
She snatched her hand away, making Vegeta grin.  
  
Happy that he couldn't see the heat rising to her cheeks she took another box and resumed working.  
  
Time flew by, but they found nothing.  
  
Finally they had looked through the last papers in the office, still having found nothing.  
  
They replaced the boxes and silently moved to the next room, the office of Mr. Aigeon, when Vegeta suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.  
  
She landed against his chest with a small "Oempf", his hand closing over her mouth.  
  
They stood in the shadow of Aigeons office, listening, the countesses heart beating a rappid tattoo against his chest. A soft light shone in the hallway, a clerk working late passed by, his footsteps muffled.  
  
He did not notice them, disappearing into the shadows of the voyer, before they heard the muffled footsteps move up the stairs.  
  
Only when the night was completely silent again did Vegeta remove his hand from the countesses lips, leaving her veil slightly crumpled, her wits scattered by his closeness.  
  
Shaken, she pulled away, leaving Vegeta frowning.  
  
Had his kissing her made her regret approaching him?  
  
If so, too late: she was stuck with him.  
  
He walked to the desk, clearing it, while she began to take boxes down from the shelves.  
  
If anything, Aigeon's room held more boxes than Johnson's; the booshelves were taller.  
  
He had just finished his task of clearing the desk, when he heard a strangled "OH!".  
  
He looked up, just in time to stride across the room, and catch the stack of boxes teetering over the countess's head.  
  
She was tall enough to reach the top shelf, but, in this room, she hadn't been able to grab the boxes, only touch them. At full stretch, she'd coaxed a stack of boxes to the edge of the shelf; they'd tipped, then started to slide......  
  
He reached over her head and grabbed them, his arms outside hers.  
  
They both froze, gripping the tin boxes, desperate not to let them clatter to the floor.  
  
There was less than an inch between them.  
  
Her perfume rose, wreathing his senses; how could he not have noticed it earlier?  
  
Her womanly warmth, clothed in soft, sensual flesh, teased him.  
  
The urge to close that small gap, to feel her lean against him, waxed strong.  
  
He sensed the leap of her pulse, the sudden fluster that gripped her.  
  
He heard her indrawn breath, sensed her uncertainty.....  
  
Tilting his head, he touched his lips to her veiled temple.  
  
She froze: her demeanor becoming unconciously sensual.  
  
He shifted, closing the gap between them until she stood stretched upward against him, touching but not pressing.  
  
Sliding his lips from her temple, caressing the line of her backswept hair, he bend his head, tracing the contours of her ear, then slid his lips lower to tease and tantalize the sensitive spot below her lobe.  
  
Skillfully he tempted her to ease her locked muscles and lean against him.  
  
The silk veil shifted beneath his lips, a second caress within the first.  
  
Her breath hitched, he traced the column of her throat with his lips.  
  
Tentatively, she let het shoulders ease into him, ready to run at the first sign of a real threat.  
  
Inwardly smiling at the small triumph, he angled his head, pressing gentle kisses in the hollow of her throat, encouraging her to raise her chin, until finaly her head was tipped back against his shoulder.  
  
He wanted much, much more, but their hands were still locked around the boxes and he did not dare break the sweet spell that had come over them. She was sweetly responsive, yet he knew that one wrong move would make her flee.  
  
So he kept each caress sweet and soft, direct and unthreatening, and with each passing moment, she sank into him more, further into the spell.  
  
Her subtle warmth washed over his hardness; his arousel was painful, yet he held the pain at bay.  
  
Waiting for her to surrender was weet torture, but eventually she was locked fully against him.  
  
A fine tension gripped her, more curiosity then fear.  
  
He pressed a firmer kiss into the hollow beneath her ear, heard her shivery breath.  
  
A tremor shook her, followed by a shaky gasp.  
  
"I'm going to drop these boxes."  
  
He raised his head to look, saw her arms quiver.  
  
Sighing, he straightened, eased back.  
  
She shifted her hands carefully, gripped the two lowest boxes, allowing him to lift the upper three away.  
  
Lowering her arms, she stepped sidewards, spine poker straight, breaking the spell.  
  
Leaving him with three boxes and a definate ache.  
  
They continued flicking through the papers in silence, tension lying heavily in the air between them, weighing them down.  
  
Vegeta was fighting the temptation to grab her and haul her into his arms, but experience hold him back: her stiff spine and rigid movement did not advice him to approach her in any way.  
  
If she noticed his difficulty at all, she gave no sign at all.  
  
"This is it."  
  
The words shook him out of his thoughts.  
  
He glanced at the box; it was labeled AZEERF.  
  
The lable told him nothing, did not ring a bell.  
  
Together they studied the papers in the dim light of the lamp.  
  
"These are papers a company would need to register in the City of London."  
  
Scanning the sheet in her hand he added, "And the company is a high standing client of Aigeon & Jonhson."  
  
"Because all of these papers were made up by them."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I don't see an adress...."  
  
"That's because there isn't one listed. Neither is the name of their client, just the name of the company and an inbetween person named Azeerf."  
  
"She looked up at him over her shoulder, her lips outlined by her veil.  
  
His gaze locked on them and she froze, just before a fragile shiver shook her. She turned away and breathlessly asked "Where will we search now?"  
  
His features hardened; he wanted to kiss her again, knew this wasn't the time to do so.  
  
What was it about her that fascinated him so?  
  
"WE don't search; leave it to me in the future. I will investigate this mr. Azeerf who's adress IS listed in here." Memorising the names and adresses that were indeed listed, Vegeta returned the papers to the box and started putting everything back where it originally stood.  
  
There had been no list of investors or promissorynotes at all, no hint of knowing other victims.  
  
He frowned. "Whoever they are, the company are certainly careful."  
  
She nodded as he took up the lantern.  
  
"Where did this come from?"  
  
"A little table out in the hallway."  
  
They left everything as it was before, stealing their way out of the offices. He followed her down the steps of the porch, her heels clicking on the stone.  
  
Crossing the cobbles silently would be impossible.  
  
At the bottom of the stairs, he took her hand and placed it on his sleeve.  
  
She looked up at him - he assumed in surprise.  
  
"I assume your carriage is waiting?"  
  
"Yes, on the corner of the park."  
  
"I'll escort you to it."  
  
In the circumstances, she could hardly argue, yet he somehow knew she considered it. If she'd tried, he would have informed her that, courtesy of five tin boxes, she now had more chance of flying to her carriage than of dismissing him with nothing more than words.  
  
There were rules to all engagements, in seduction as in war; he knew them all and was a past master at exploiting them for his own good. After the first clashes, every lady he'd ever engaged with had decided his exploitation had been for her good, too. (A/N: hence his enormous ego).  
  
Ultimately, the countess would not complain.  
  
He had been pleasantly surprised in finding her here, but he would of course ensure things like this did not happen again, for her own good.  
  
They reached her carriage, halting, Vegeta opened the door.  
  
The countess put out her hand. "Thank you ---"  
  
"In a moment." Taking her hand, he helped her into the carriage, feeling her puzzled glance.  
  
As she settled on the seat, he glanced at her coachman. "Brook Street."  
  
With that, he followed the countess into the carriage and shut the door behind them.  
  
She stared at him, no doubt having troubles believing her own eyes, then scooted further over as he turned and sat beside her.  
  
The carriage rocked into motion.  
  
After an instant of silence, she said, "I wasn't aware I had offered you a ride."  
  
Vegeta considered her veiled face.  
  
"No doubt you would have - I thought I'd save you the trouble."  
  
He heard the giggle she had not been able to contain.  
  
Lips curving, he faced forward.  
  
"After all, we nee to consider our next move."  
  
He'd already mapped out several, all could be attempted in a closed carriage rolling through the night.  
  
"Indeed." Her tone was impassive.  
  
***************************************************************  
  
Ooh; another clifhanger. Sorry couldn't help myself.  
  
What will happen in that carriage?  
  
Care to find out, then watch out for our new and exciting chapter of Fanfiction Dragonball Z!  
  
Please review this chapter; constructive flames are welcome too. 


End file.
